


Hush, Baby

by doctor__idiot



Series: Tumblr Prompts [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Prompt Fill, Rimming, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12146763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: “I promise I’ll take good care of you.”





	Hush, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: "idk if you're doing prompts but i love sam knowing that dean is a bottom before dean does"

“Sam, I’m not so sure about this.”

“Shh,” Sam quiets him instantly, long fingers wrapped around Dean’s wrists on either side of his head.

Dean swallows hard, tries to close his legs but Sam is kneeling between his thighs, keeping them spread effortlessly with his own hips.

Gloriously naked above him, Sam’s long lean body against his own is making Dean’s head swim despite his reluctance. He flexes his arms, testing Sam’s grip and it gives a little. Sam strokes his thumbs across Dean’s pulse points on both wrists.

“I don’t think—”

“Hey,” Sam says quietly, softly, “You trust me?”

Dean licks his lips. The question is a no-brainer but there’s something lodged in his throat. He makes a small noise, then nods because it’s all he can do, and Sam lets his arms go. Dean doesn’t move them.

“Can you turn over for me?”

Dean swallows again, the clot in his throat not shrinking even when he coughs. He reaches for Sam on instinct, his hands finding strong shoulders, and Sam’s fingers curl around his elbow.

“Listen,” Sam says, “If you really don’t wanna do this, we don’t have to.”

“I trust you.” It’s not a fitting reply and it comes out croaky but it’s something.

Sam gives him a smile. “Okay then.” He tugs Dean closer, into a sitting position, and leans in for a kiss that’s slower and gentler than the atmosphere would suggest, and then slides his hands down Dean’s sides. “Come on.”

Dean pushes himself up and over and lets Sam’s hands on his back maneuver him on the bed. Goosebumps rise and he shivers, pushes his arms under the pillow supporting his head. Sam’s fingers find the dip of his spine just about his ass and he jumps slightly.

“Dean.” The word is a warm puff of breath against Dean’s shoulder blade. It’s quiet comfort, followed by Sam’s lips against his skin, dragging wetly down his back, and he shivers with pleasure.

Sam’s mouth brushes over the beginning swell of his ass. “I promise I’ll take good care of you.”

Dean shudders again, hands fisting in the sheet beneath the pillow, and he can’t stop the small sound that makes it out of his mouth when Sam’s thumbs dig into the globes of his ass and gently pull them apart.

Dean clamps down on the automatic objection that bubbles up the back of his throat and squeezes his eyes shut. Every single one of his nerve endings is tuned into the frequency of Sam’s touches. He’s too vulnerable, too open, feeling so exposed under Sam’s hands. He pushes his face into the pillow, muffling the little whimper he can’t suppress.

Sam hums against his skin, his tongue flicking out to lick in between the cheeks of his ass, down the crease to that tightly furled muscle, all forbidden focus, and Dean bucks his hips, gives a little shout.

Sam’s arms go around his thighs, hands keeping him spread for his mouth and Dean trembles, writhes against his brother’s hold. Sam’s tongue feels sinfully filthy and good enough that he wants to burst. His erection is pressed between the mattress and his stomach and he bears down for some friction.

Fingers dig into his groin as Sam lifts his hips up, angling him for better access, and Dean can’t help his moan. His fingers curl und uncurl uselessly in the bedspread, unsure of what to do with himself. It’s overwhelming to have so much attention focused on him and paired with all those new sensation it’s almost too much.

Sam retreats then, strokes his hands up Dean’s back, and asks, “Okay?”

Dean isn’t sure he can coherently express what he’s feeling right now so he reaches back and squeezes Sam’s shoulder in lieu of an answer.

There is a click behind him and then Sam’s fingers are back, coated with cool lube, gently rubbing over his already spit-slick hole, and Dean is gripped by momentary panic.

He digs his fingers into Sam’s skin, body tense, and the protest leaves him like a punch. “Wait.”

Sam stills. Breathes. Dean can feel the energy thrumming in his body. Then he’s engulfed by body heat when Sam’s body blankets his, hard chest against Dean’s back, and Sam’s fingers are in his hair, gently turning his head to the side.

Dean opens his mouth to say something, maybe assure his brother that he’s fine, that he just had a moment of uncertainty, but Sam’s mouth covers his before he gets a change to. It’s kind of dirty, knowing where that mouth has been but Dean fists his fingers in Sam’s mop of hair and kisses him with all he’s got.

He has to twist his spine into a more than uncomfortable position to accommodate the kiss but it’s worth it, Sam’s tongue brushing over his, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. A large hand is curled loosely around the base of his throat, pinky finger stroking back and forth over his collar bone.

Dean jerks slightly, this time more with surprise that with anything else, as Sam’s wet fingers find his mark a second time. He whines into Sam’s mouth, clenching his eyes shut against the unfamiliar sensation of a single fingertip applying soft pressure.

The first breach makes him gasp, restless with the newness of it all, but there’s no pain, not even when Sam slides his finger deeper, gently moving inside of him. It’s strange but Dean finds himself bearing down instead of twisting away, barely even noticing he’s doing it. A small moan spills out of him and Sam shushes him, licks back into his mouth, and Dean clings to him. Can’t even be ashamed of it.

Two fingers are more of a stretch but Sam moves slowly, taking his time, and Dean would accuse him of teasing if he didn't know why Sam doesn’t want to rush this. He would never admit it but secretly he’s grateful.

Sam trails wet kisses down Dean’s chin and neck and Dean tilts his head back on autopilot, his arm slung loosely around Sam’s shoulders. He’s lying half on his side now and Sam pushes his thigh up against Dean’s hard cock, just letting him feel the pressure of it and Dean is already so wet, leaking pre-cum onto the sheets.

Sam’s fingers are long enough to reach his prostate easily and Dean shudders and mewls every time he rubs it gently.

There’s more lube and then another finger and it burns now but Dean can’t stop moving his hips into the small thrusting motions of Sam’s hand. He’s biting his lips against all the noises threatening to pour out of him and the deep press of fingers makes something snap in him.

“Sammy, I’m—Please, I need—” He shakes his head, frustrated with himself but Sam only makes that damn shushing noise again, as if Dean was a spooked animal, and massages Dean’s hole with his thumb from the outside, sliding it along the rim and down Dean’s perineum.

“Everything okay?”

Dean can only nod, “Yeah, yeah, fine, just—” and then the words turn into a groan when Sam withdraws. He pushes Dean flat against the bed again and makes another grab for the lube.

Dean hisses at the brief coldness from the liquid, then tilts his hips up automatically without Sam having to tell him to. He stretches out his arms, braces his hands against the headboard.

Sam’s palms are two points of soothing heat on the small of Dean’s back as he slowly, so goddamn slowly, pushes into him and Dean bites back a shout. “God,” he breathes, shaking.

“Want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Dean hiccups, sweat stinging in his eyes, and he pushes himself up so he’s kneeling in Sam’s lap. Sam instantly wraps his arms around him, presses a kiss against his shoulder. It doesn’t hurt, not exactly, but the pressure is incredible, making him feel so full, and Sam is _everywhere._ His smell surrounds Dean, sweat and shower gel, and the arms around his torso are holding him so tight he can barely breathe. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“God,” he says again, letting his head fall back against Sam’s shoulder, trusting his brother to keep him upright.

Sam gives a breathless chuckle right next to Dean’s ear, adjusting his hips. The movement wrenches another moan from Dean at all that cock shifting inside of him.

“Fuck, you’re huge.”

It comes out entirely involuntary and he hears Sam snort behind him. “I hope you know I’m gonna tease you endlessly about this later.”

Dean can’t help but smile because he knows Sam won’t. It’s just not the way he rolls. If their roles were reversed, oh hell, Dean would tease the _shit_ out of him. So he figures it’s fair enough.

“You gonna move anytime soon or nah?” he drawls, a lot more casual than he feels.

Sam turns his face, lips brushing Dean’s ear when he speaks, “I knew you’d be bossy.” He unfolds himself from around Dean’s middle and sets his hands on Dean’s hips so he can lift him enough to thrust into him.

Dean’s mouth falls open and at once he’s robbed of any smartass remarks when Sam starts fucking him, slowly but with deep strokes of his cock, rotating his hips and making sure to put pressure on Dean’s prostate every time. Dean’s fingers curl against Sam’s thighs, his eyelids fluttering shut.

“Just like I knew you’d love this.”

“Don’t—” Dean gasps at a particularly hard thrust, “Don’t love it, bitch.”

Sam laughs and it sounds entirely too smug. Asshole. “Oh yeah?” he prompts. “Say that again.”

He pushes Dean forward on the bed so Dean has to catch himself on his elbows, legs still spread over Sam’s lap, and Sam fucks up into him, harder and faster, and Dean drops his head, mutters, “Fuck,” under his breath.

Turning his mouth into his own biceps to muffle each of those punchy little moans, he closes his eyes and pushes back into Sam’s thrusts. Can’t help himself. His own cock is lying red and heavy between his legs but he doesn’t have a hand to put on himself.

Before long Sam hauls him back up against his chest, one arm snaking around Dean’s waist and he kisses the spot behind Dean’s ear, then bites down hard on Dean’s shoulder and Dean bucks up, and spills, as if on cue, completely caught off-guard by his own orgasm.

Sam’s rhythm falters for a moment, then he picks up the pace and comes soon after. Dean can feel it deep and warm inside of him. He shivers, exhausted and overstimulated, leaning back against Sam’s chest.

Sam strokes a hand over his still fluttering stomach. “So I guess because you don’t love it, you just came only from my dick in your ass?”

Dean casts his eyes heavenward, giving his brother a grunt of frustration. He can’t deny the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though. “I hate you so much right now.”

Sam hums, noses along the curve of Dean’s neck. “I don’t think you do.”

“I’m so gonna get you back for this.”

Dean can’t see Sam’s grin but he can definitely feel it. “I’m counting on it."


End file.
